Reach out
by Astarael00
Summary: hold back.


Reach out

Block, slip behind it, slash. Nothing. Slash its arms. Nothing.

It turns around, its beady eyes mocking.

Annoyed, you stab one of them. The overgrown slime begins to make a horrible keening sound, so headache-inducing that you almost cover your ears.

Instead you maintain a defensive stance and wonder, 'How do I put it out of its misery?'

Between beats of your heart, which you're reasonably sure has migrated into your head, you hear, _Set it on fire._

Sure, why not. You set it on fire. The horrible keening sound grows impossibly worse, and then stops. There is nothing left of it to make noise.

You feel like kissing the wise voice that made it stop.

_That would be nice,_ says the voice wistfully.

You freeze in place, halfway through cleaning your sword on the nearby grass.

'...What?'

_Hey, don't look at me, you suggested it._

'I suggested nothing. I wish I _could_ look at you. Who is this, and what are you doing inside my head?'

_Typical Light, straight to the point. Never even considers that she might be insane._

'My brand of insanity involves swinging swords at fal'Cie.'

Only one person laughs as if they just outraced the wind.

'Fang?'

_I don't know what I'm doing inside your head either,_ the voice says, answering both of your questions. _I was hunting a behemoth, except that it turned into a slime – not that unusual for a dream – and then you asked how to kill it. So I answered. Except now that I look around, you aren't here. Pretty unusual for a dream. Don't think I've had this one before._

_'_I am not part of your dream. I know I exist.'

_Yeah, you usually say that._

You refrain from lifting a slime-covered hand to rub the bridge of your nose.

'You have a very strong imagination.'

_Was that a compliment? Must be dreaming._

You wipe your hand on the grass and rub the bridge of your nose.

'Right. Is there anything I can say that your imagination wouldn't?'

_Er..."Die!"? No wait, that's definitely happened. _

There is no good reaction to that.

_Granted, my dreams aren't usually convoluted enough to ask me how to prove to me that I'm not dreaming. So say I believe you. How are we talking?_

'Maybe Etro is testing my patience.'

_Ha, not a bad theory. For what purpose though? _

You sit down on the nearest rock without answering. There's no point in going back with a voice in your head. With your luck she'll say something ridiculous at the exact moment you need to not be scowling at someone. As much.

_Maybe it's a reward for me. You can only mix and match dreams for so many hundreds of years before they get kind of repetitive._

'And real life is somehow less boring than your dreams?'

_Well, it is you we're talking about. I'm sure you can find another fal'Cie or grand quest or something._

'Serah is fine. And if she is ever not fine, there will be no quest. I will simply tear down the sky.'

_You may or may not be mocking me._

'I may or may not be mocking you.'

_Good to know. Wait, when did you develop a sense of humor? Real life is way more interesting than my dreams._

'That wasn't humor.'

You aren't sure it's possible to look more deadpan, but you try.

'Does that mean you believe me?'

_I guess so. Unless I've had the hundreds of years it would take to begin to imagine you with a sense of humor._

Ouch.

_If you're still alive, it can't've been that long, right?_

'A year.'

You're pretty sure your tone gives away how long it feels.

_Is...this the anniversary?_

'Maybe.'

_Well maybe you should be somewhere celebrating the downfall of the tyranny. Why are you out here killing slimes?_

'The slimes don't appreciate tyranny's downfall enough to refrain from attacking its celebration.'

_Bummer._

You smirk.

_No, wait, I know you. There's no way they sent one of the heroes of the hour off to kill slimes. You snuck out, didn't you?_

'Maybe.'

_Well maybe you should sneak back._

'They'll do just fine without me. I was getting tired of throwing out drunks and decided the wildlife would be more of a challenge.'

_Fair enough._

'What do you dream of?'

_Hunting, mostly. Sometimes, home. Sometimes, what might have been home._

'I see.'

On your chair-shaped rock, in your grassy field, at the end of time, your lips do not move when you say,

'That sounds familiar.'


End file.
